


I Did Not have a game plan for this one

by worddumb



Series: *clears throat* Hey Kid, Heard You Like Questionable Content? [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: (or rather in the name of Fireball and flight. whichever), Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Flying, Gen, Guitars, Knives, Oh! I forgot, Wilbur almost has a panic attack, and -now- thass it, and maybe low-key blood ha ha, based on online personas, he also goes ghostbury at some parts. thass it i think, it's all fluff I swear, look i can't write a purely pure work i am physically incapable, oh! oh i almost forgot!, phil gets cut up a bit in the name of beauty, rated for swear words, the first chapter is a diet beach episode, the title imples i normally have a plan when titling and That's True, this is so not-questionable compared to the first ones- oh! oh right!, uhh what other tags., uhhh, well just one guitar. eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddumb/pseuds/worddumb
Summary: Uh, Wilbur learns to fly. Via being thrown off a cliff. Into water. It's pog, I guess. The second chapter is all about tattoos and tabletops, don't question thatYou don't need to read any of my previous works to understand the happening of this one, enjoy!
Series: *clears throat* Hey Kid, Heard You Like Questionable Content? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116176
Kudos: 2





	1. He Believe He Can Fly,, He Doesn't, Actually, but He Still Can

“Ah, fuck,”- the sun hits Wilbur’s eyes harder than the tube that sent him stumbling into a whole new world when he comes out from within the nice, protective forest canopy. (which was alsos all up in his eyes  _ and  _ upper body as well  _ without _ bothering Phil at all and barely bothering Techno, but still)

With great effort and a hand over his eyes, he tries to blink on through the pain. His mission is made near fucking impossible, considering the stupid lake-river-thingy before them is reflecting the biggest sunny-bunny straight into his peepers as well, from below this time; he doesn’t suceed getting his vision back. “I think I just went blind.” 

“Weak,”- no sympathy from Techno, of course. They say distance makes the heart grow fond, but by god if the pig doesn’t prove this statement false tenfold. Wil kinda wants to shove him off the cliff and into the giant glaring with the sun puddle for that remark, though for now he’s confined to glaring down at him instead. Of course, Techno’s squinting also, arms crossed as though trying to protect himself from the unbearable brightness: “Yeah, and you’re a hypocrite. What else is new?” 

Although to be fair, Wil does still want to hug the hypocritical bastard of a man, he just knows it won’t be appreciated. Maybe distance did make his heart grow fond, or fonder, as much distance as about a week apart, half of which he spent stalking both him and yet quiet Phil in his ghosty-boy form, is. 

“Yeah, both of you are kinda whack, not gonna lie,”- think of the devil. Utter bastards, both of them. The sweetest bastards, though; in a bound of inspiration, Wil picks Phil up in a lock-hug: “Shut up,”- and makes his voice low and threatening, which seems to work just well enough, Phil freezing for a second before slithering his hands out and putting them on Wil’s face. 

“Never,”- using said grabby-little things, he proceeds to pull on Wil’s cheeks, eyes too serious for both the activity and his voice. Such a lovely enigma, both him and Techno; overcome by a sudden wave of love, Wil squishes him tighter, looking down at Techno just to know he’s there. Traveling with them had just always been so nice, even at the worst of times- he’s about to make himself cry. 

“Wil, you’re squishing me-”- oh, right. 

“Yeeea, that’s no fittin’ punishment for bein’ a Philza supremacist. You should throw him in the water or somethin’, to cool off his attitude, if ya get me,”- as per usual, Techno drawls his words like he’s high on drugs. God he’s so cute. 

What’s less cute is how Phil locks his arms around Wil’s neck tight enough to choke a little, though it’s also quite up there if only with its utter futility. Anything anyone does around Wil is cute, even their fake little attempts to hurt him (especially the fake as all fuck attempts to hurt him, actually), for some reason. Is he just like, compelling people to be cute with him with his chosen one powers? He’s not sure, he didn’t really watch anime back in his not-Wilbur days. 

“Okay, fair, but you at least gotta check how deep the water goes. I don’t wanna bust my ass hitting the bottom. Techno?”- wow, Phil really is feeling bastardous today, his teaching methods are normally much gentler, almost to the point of being ineffective (which, to Phil’s credit, he gets bastardous more than enough to serve Techno well). For a second, they can both observe little cogs turning in Techno’s head at the sudden change of topic, although he figures it out in less time than Wilbut knows himself to would’ve needed. All the more reasons these two are so amazing, he could never be either of them and they couldn’t be him! Isn’t that nice. 

This time, squishing Phil, he makes sure not to be too too forceful. 

Regardless of his musings, Techno gives a careful nod, coming up to the edge of the cliff. “Uh, Phil, how’s ‘how many’ in Galactic?” 

“Skolyko,”- Phil’s intent to teach, be helpful radiates warm and lovely from the word. God, Wil just loves it when they use Galactic in front of him so much- Phil is hitting his shoulder: “Squish, Wil.” Ooh, right. Right. 

Even though the squish is bound to happen again, Wil makes no move to set Phil down, instead adjusting his arms so that the man can sit on them rather than hang between them and Wil’s body. As predicted, Phil gets the memo nigh immediately, shifting to get comfortable in the new position, meanwhile Techno takes a steadying breath, flexing his fingers: “Uh, Skolyko do dna?” 

Gah. He gets too caught up in pronunciation, the disturbance he causes giving Wil’s stomach a bit of a churning. Still, a very good attempt, even Wil can sorta envision the distance and it seems more than enough to just, yeet small man into water without fear of getting busted by him for getting his ass busted. Good job. 

With another steadying breath, Techno turns to them: “Uh, about four blocks,”- he’s drawling again, except in a much more defense-mechanism-y kind of way. 

“Yes, that’s correct. I mean, I only really know cause of you, which is very skillful,”- and straight back to overly careful, full of approval style of teaching it is- “Though you should swap focusing on pronunciation to picturing what you’re trying to do, if that makes sense?” 

“Yeah, Phil, it absolutely makes sense and he sucks at it so far,”- there’s that venom in Wilbur’s voice, the kind he’s come to associate with the echo of the man he used to be. The man who, if he recalls correctly, had a whole different name he can’t be bothered to remember. The man who’s dead. He doesn’t mind it though, at least when it’s not as vengeful as it is right now. So what if Techno displaced him a bit with the magic, he’s still learning? (and so what if Phil is uncomfortable being all teacher-y sometimes, that’s also not Techno’s fault. it’s not. it’s that damned-)

Predictably, the ghost of christmas past doesn’t answer, and all Wilbur’s left with is Techno’s response to the mean-ness: “Wow, Wilbur, didn’t know you were so petty,”- Techno’s voice, on the other hand, has the fun kind of venom, if any at all. Maybe, just maybe, Wil’s was also more fun than he heard it; otherwise, wouldn’t Techno be mad with him? So maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t such an awful person as he plays himself up to be. Maybe he should talk about this. (again) (he won’t unless they ask- no he will. it’s important for emotional wellness or some shit.) 

“Oh, I’m not petty, I’m just stating the obvious. You’re a crude, crude little man, you,”- he definitely sounds a lot more fun, now, even to his own ears. That’s nice, nice enough where he tightens his grip on Phil again, relaxing it at a flick to the neck Phil gives him for the trouble. Man, he loves spending time with them, even as that man he used to be. 

“I so am, aren’t I?”- voice sprinkled with warning and flexing, Techno’s still more amusive than anything. In Wil’s arms, Phil shifts to have a better view of whatever’s about to go down, as the last time Techno’s gotten so threatening they had themselves a bit of a brawl, that’s ended in tragedy (they’d gotten so caught up in fighting they didn’t notice they were really close to the bubbling broth. thank god Phil’s a god with galactic, so no burns for them. the broth couldn’t be saved tho). Eager to please an audience, Wilbur adds brushwood to fire: “Yeah, I said so haven’t I? What, has little piggy lost its ears?”- he makes sure to add as much of a pitying tilt to the latter words as possible, specifically to piss Techno off enough to start a fight. Sure, the rudeness and the dehumanising makes him a bit worried he’s taking it a bit too far and Techno might get actually angry, or worse, all sad and weak, but it’s almost always been okay thus far  _ and  _ Techno makes those stupid little jokes himself. Why fret? 

“Oh, little piggy has all the ears. Little piggy also has these hands, and you’re about to catch them,”- changing his stance, Techno beckons (he-he, bacons) him closer- “Set Phil down and let's settle this like certified fools, with excessive violence-”- he uses the same hand he beckoned Wil with to make a glory motion, raising it in a fist to the sky- “-and little to no consideration to our personal safety!” What’s Wilbur supposed to do, but agree to such a pompous invitation? His hold on Phil lets up, he lets the man slither out and jump away on one foot as the sandal from the other must’ve been lost when Wil picked him up, and gets a bit lower to the ground: “Last one off the cliff wins, and the loser has to do all the cleaning for a week. Prepare to suffer, Technoblade.” 

“Oh, I ain’t gonna be the one sufferin’,”- with that, Techno takes a bit more of a stance- “Galactica, dai mne sil,”- this time, his Galactic feels like it tears through Wil’s whole being in a way surely intentional. Payback for all the times Techno was the only one suffering from it, maybe? 

Either way, he’s much stronger than usual now and Wilbur will just have to deal with that. In the background, Phil mutters “Oh dear Galaxy”, no doubt preparing to clean up after them or, more likely, make them clean up after themselves. 

Letting go of his strength-spell related fears and because Techno doesn’t look like he’s gonna do anything, which is of course a trap, Wil charges and, as soon as he’s in grabbing distance, gets picked off the ground by the thighs, spun around, and thrown off the cliff. 

He’s falling backwards. He’s falling backwards, and he can’t stop it. What if it’s not deep enough for him, he’s about three and a half blocks tall, what if he hits his head and loses consciousness and drowns and they don’t have the time to save him and he gets sent back to that world and never sees them again, what if he wakes up and none of this was ever real and he’s in a mental hospital somewhere, what if- He’s not falling anymore. Oh, so he went all ghosty, as he does. 

If he did though, why can he still see his legs? 

Gingerly, Wil feels for his body. Yup, definitely still there, he’s hugging himself and his legs are curled to his chest and he’s a little upside down, though there’s still some hair floating in front of his eyes- not only hair, him. He’s floating as a whole, for real, without going ghost or anything. Holy shit. 

“Holy shit,”- he whispers to himself. Holy shit! He’s floating!! Does that mean he can fly? Just like when he’s being a ghosty boy? 

Before he can check, a voice yanks him out of his musings: “Good save, but you’re still doin’ dishes for the rest of the week,”- leave it to Techno to bring things back to bleak reality (although to be fair, the world is anything but bleak right now, the sky so pretty and blue and the sun so very bright, but hey. artistic rendition). Wilbur can’t help a sigh of relief, letting up his self-hug. It wasn’t ‘to the end of this week’ though, it was ‘a week’, did Techno forget? Or is he being cute like that again? Well he’s always being cute, it’s like an innate feature, but is he actually trying for once? 

“Okay!”- rather content with letting Techno have his ‘mistake’, Wil floats back up to the edge of the cliff, setting both his feet down on the soft grass oh-so carefully. His hair drops back into his eyes, the magic surrounding him subsiding into the ground, and he feels at peace. Well, that was fast, remarks a small voice in the back of his head. He’s not sure what it might be talking about, dusting his yellow sleeves off Blue. 

“Wow man, you really stressed out there,”- Phil doesn’t sound concerned as much as he sounds like he’s making a statement. Oooh, right. Wil forgot that stress is how he learned to summon Blue in the first place. Eh, happens. 

“...Is it bad I wanna try flying again anyway?” 

What? Why would that be bad? Summing up Wilbur’s feelings on the matter, Techno answers Phil instead, half a scoff, half a laugh leaving his throat: “How would it be bad, it’s not Wilbur who’s gotten it after blowing up his parents.” Ooooh, riight. He’s not the only one with a sketchy past, in fact, he’s the one with the least sketchiest past! He always forgets. 

Either way, Phil shakes his hands too excited to talk, bounces in place a bit now with both sandals removed, and turns into a flurry of Galactic words sending joyous waves through the fabric of the universe. It’s so nice, Wilbur doesn’t catch a word of it. 

Be he aware or not, Phil’s hat floats off his head alongside his hair going in waves as though underwater, his robe doing the same and his Big Pants becoming full. At first quiet as he takes off, Phil’s now giggling like a maniac, pulls the hat back on and oh, goes horizontal all careful like and proceeds to spin in place like an oversized green beyblade. 

Unable to resist himself, Wilbur takes off too, goes to lay on air, focuses on spinning, and man are the fast whizzing of air past his ears and the complete inability to tell quite where he is fun! When he stops, he doesn’t want to set back down, instead getting his backpack out of his pocket, helping it to the ground and grabbing his guitar. Man, man, man, is he happy they travel light now, he wouldn’t be able to just pick Phil up whenever otherwise. Magic is amazing. 

Although to be fair, all three of them look absolutely adorable in backpacks. Eh, equivalent exchange or some shit. 

Guitar in his arms, he flies higher, above the tree line and over the lake-river-thingy, turning to face his friends. His head is still spinning a bit, but it’s not like that’ll stop him from playing; relaxing into the void of the universe, he starts up a simple melody, happy and melancholic all at once. Down below him, his two favourite people ever talk: “Wow, I’m almost jealous of you guys,”- Techno, humour in his words. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool isn’t it? Wanna join?”- Phil, joyous and mischievous. 

“You aren’t gonna make me do it myself, are you, Philza?” 

Closer now, Wil changes the music to somewhat pensive alongside Techno’s apparent mood. 

“Oops, you caught me,”- cheerful, Phil swaps to comfort- “It’s better if you do it yourself, though. You’ll be learning, and I’m sure your head is gonna hurt for weeks now with that strength stunt you pulled anyway so.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Sorry,”- he does sound, a little bit. Wil switches to more sad notes. 

“It’s okay, I’m- I’m actually real grateful you’re doin’ this for me?”- a bit of panic in Techno’s voice, he really is a social disaster- “Like, you don’t  _ have  _ to be teachin’ me, but you’re still okay-ish at it,”- now, more teasing, hopeful notes seem to work better. Who knew scoring his friends talking could be so much fun? 

Overcome by joy, Wil does a backwards somersault. Being upside down for a short while like that was nice, will being upside down for a long one be the same? Science must answer that question. 

With that and a single look at the already Galactic-busy duo, Wilbur somersaults once again, still not stopping the music for longer than a second. It’s as fun as he expected, the sun in his eyes again but the view nice when he throws his head back to have a better look, the blood rushing to his head forcing a smile onto his face. 

Being upside down with a body is so much better than without one, he settles. 

The music in his arms and ears is almost enough to distract from Techno’s unsure little attempts at Galactic, though not quite; to wrestle with the discrepancy, he once again goes to match his music to his feels, flipping back right side up and floating up close to the action. He’s just in time, Techno’s fun floppy little ears standing up without gravity affecting them, Techno himself about one pixel off the ground and looking ironically very, very floored. Or rather, awed, but the pun won’t make itself so. 

Adding some triumphs to his scoring, Wil does the musical equivalent of a laugh (aka strums very fast, but like, in an excited way) when Techno glares at him. In response, Techno glares louder, into himself this time, and mutters something long and galactic under his breath, too quiet to hear and remarkably better than the bottom of the lake time. Next thing either of them know, Techno is all up in Wilbur’s space, arms crossed and brows furrowed, reaching out and booping one of the strings of Wil’s guitar. 

It takes a couple of seconds to process, but then Wil remembers  _ the rule _ , and the fact Techno hadn’t fieled down his claw-things in a while: “Oh, you absolute scoundrel.” Techno doesn’t back away, only taking back his hand and maintaining their glare-y eye contact. With no other choice, Wilbur retreats himself, hiding the guitar behind his back: “Hey Phil! He’s being mean to me!” 

“Stop being mean to him, Techno,”- there’s so much of a joke to Phil’s voice, Wil almost wants to be offended for real. 

“...I will steal both of your rib cages and beat you up with them until they break.” 

Taken aback by the threat, Wilbur hangs in one place for a bit. Then, darts to the ground, setting down his beloved instrument: “Great concept, mister violence, but you gotta catch us first!” 

And thus, the rest of the day is derailed. Phil still gets yeeten off a cliff and into water though, so it’s not a complete waste if you ask Wil. 


	2. *with gremlin dellight* Knnnnnife

“Does anyone wanna play Theft?”- Wilbur’s not too sure he himself wants to, seeing how he loses every time on pure ire because Techno’s just that good at provoking and Phil is ever eager to join, but the silence they’ve been enjoying has been growing too awkward for his liking. 

Plus, their alliances are always so sweet he just can’t get enough. He even gets to form alliances too, with both of them, so it’s triple the potential fun! Although Phil is not very likely to join right now, consumed by a book as he is. Eh, happens. 

Surprising no one and sweet as ever, Techno gives a full body perk at the offer, both hands going to cup his pig little face with knuckles: “Huuue- I thought you’d never ask.” Phil, meanwhile, curls into his book a little: “Nah, I’ll pass. This is like, the first book talking ‘bout the possibility of wordless Galactic seriously, sorry.” 

“Eh, it’s fine, playing with both of you at the same time is chaos anyways,”- Techno doesn’t stop his rummaging for the playing field to excuse him, getting out the thing in one fluid motion just as he’s done talking. It seems to work wonders easing Phil’s anxiety, which just goes to show Techno doesn’t ‘suck at people’ as much as he claims to. Though to be fair, he claims to suck at communication and that. Is kind of true, but still. He’s better than he thinks, if sorta rude sometimes. 

“Yeah, you enjoy your book, man,”- shifting over to Techno, Wil makes sure to sound a bit more reassuring than Techno did. With their efforts combined, the tension leaves Phil’s shoulders as he‘s engulfed by the shiny book again. All calm and absent like that, he alone’s enough to squeeze Wil’s heart tight with the knowledge that that’s  _ his  _ mad scientist, lost and quiet and temperamental in a calm way. 

And a bit like a painting, with his ridiculous reading pose of laying on his side, one leg practically on his head (around his shoulder) and with his leafing through hand hooked through it, like he’s been tied into a bow. It’s just a bit concerning. (what isn’t, in this little relationship of theirs?) 

Either way, while he was watching Phil be all loungy, Techno’s adorable eagerness to play has started to approach adorably dangerous levels alongside his completion of the playing board; really, that man loves competition to an unhealthy degree, Wil says. Not outloud, Techno would agree in such a way he’d feel like an idiot, but in concept, where he’s safe to make whatever allegations about his friends. Like, Techno’s determination in waiting is the best thing in the whole wide world. What’s Techno gonna do about those unspoken words, punch him? Jokes on him, Wil loves play-fighting so it’d still be a win.

“Can we play by my rules, please?”- before Techno can gather himself into talking and before his own thoughts get him in an appreciation loop, Wil decides to now-or-never this bitch. They never let him have any fun, and aren’t creative enough to accept his objectively superior idea for how Theft is to be played (an allegation that he’s made outloud and that had gained him a long, long explanation of why his rules are a mess when he kept pushing) but maybe right now, with Techno in such an elated mood, he can finally get his way. 

And get his way he does, Techno’s evil little muzzle getting a truly devilish expression: “Oh, sure, if you wanna lose instantly.” 

“Oh I always lose instantly cause you’re just that good, anyways when can we start?” 

“Now,”- with that, Techno moves the first piece. So that’s how they’re deciding who goes first, today. 

Contrary to both his own and Techno’s words, Wilbur wins the first round. His win is neither honest (bribing/offsetting the opposition with a compliment pre-game) nor fair (the rule he comes up with completely legitimately is a  _ nightmare _ ), which he counts a total success; next round, he loses his guard and Techno wipes the floor with him. Third round is close, fourth round is ‘normal’ rules so a resounding loss, though closer than usual, fifth round Phil throws a twig at them to shut up and all is well around the bones for a campfire. 

Although Techno did have to create light with galactic to continue their merrymaking, all skillful-like. Even that barely put a dour on the fun despite Phil muttering ‘amateurs’ under his breath like a swear word, which Techno honest to god flipped him off at. Phil didn’t see, of course, only swore further at Wil’s loud excitement. It’s always like this in this fucking family. (a statement Techno would kill him for. what’s he got against found families? Wil files it away as a thing to ask) 

Wrathza or no Wrathza, they settle for a sixth game. Sure, they try to keep quiet for the fear of twigs (or rather, bothering Phil and making him sad), but it only enables them to mime through their fun and whatnot. 

Which in turn enables Wilbur to, after being directed for loss after Techno’s third move, scoop up all his pieces and throw them at Techno’s face. The defensive squint it gets him is to live for; the murderous intent in Techno’s eyes as he goes for to flick Wil on the forehead kinda is, as well, but the hoof to the stomach he gets when he catches Techno’s arm is less so. This is how it’s gonna be then, huh? 

Fueled by righteous indignation and pure delight of a third fight that day, Wil yanks on the arm he caught and, with Techno off balance, shoves the pig to the ground with his other hand. He almost goes to say ‘Not so tough without strength, are we?’, when he notices the pressure, downright pain in his shove-to-the-ground-y arm’s elbow and the spurs of a hoof poised for his eye; of course, Techno’s slippery like that. 

“Give?”- unadulterated glee on Techno’s face and slight shortness to his breath, he really lives to fight. Instead of an answer, Wilbur relocates the hand holding him down to his neck, it sadly not fitting neatly between his fingers like Phil’s does. The reminder of how much bigger he is than both his friends is still nice, though. 

The hoof poised for his eye hovers closer: “You know I’ve won. Give.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, but-”- the only alert he gets for an upcoming slam on the head by a hard rectangle is Techno’s eyes shifting away from his face. 

“Can you two not fight for two minutes?”- somehow, Phil looks imposing just holding a book. Beneath Wil, Techno rubs his head where he was no doubt kicked. 

“No-”- the sarcasm in Techno’s voice might as well be water, it drips so hard off the word- “-we can not, as evidenced by the mere hours we spent peacefully playing a tabletop game together.” 

“Yeah! We’re such good friends, right, Techno?”- to underline his words, Wilbur squeezes harder at Techno’s neck. His cheek feels a dull piercing pressure for a second before he realises Techno’s pushing his spurs into it, his elbow pulling under increased pressure, not enough to break skin or bone but enough to be uncomfortable: “We very much are.” 

“You’re both so dumb,”- pinching the bridge of his nose, Phil still sounds fond as fuck. Wil and Techno exchange a glance, letting up on each other, and pray closer to Phil. He backs away, hands raised defensively. 

“Philza, zamri,”- fairies dancing behind Techno’s words, he really is showing a lot of improvement in just one day, huh? Even Wil wants to slow down a bit with the words, Phil freezing in one place just for long enough for Techno to grab his wrists, spin around behind him and push him to the ground: “So whatever revenge do you think suitable for bein’ a Philza supremacist again, Wil?” 

“We could throw him off the cliff like earlier, not like he can’t float back up now is it?” 

They both stare at Phil. Under the weight of the expectation of either consent or non-consent, he sighs, looking into himself before- 

Wilbur honestly doesn’t catch a word of what he Galactisizes other than his own and Techno’s names, only the vague, warm feeling of being the most adorable, frustrating kind of stupid. It guides him, sitting him up properly, which he doesn’t bother resisting. 

Unable to move, now, he stays put and listens as Phil talks: “No, we’re not throwing me off a cliff for an imaginary crime  _ again _ . What is wrong with you two?” 

Ears twitching a bit where he too’s been forced to sit, Techno’s monotone as ever: “You don’t wanna know. Also, can you go down there anyway to grab some water, please? For dinner.” 

Oooooh, right. 

“Oh, right. Food. Sustenance. Right. I didn’t forget at all,”- Phil looks a bit stunned by his own forgetting, giving himself a light punch on the head. Wil can’t help a snort, alongside a rumble of stomach. They really would just straight up die without Techno, huh? (they already didn’t, but the pig’s still quite the life quality improvement) 

Having gotten back into it by clapping at his face, Phil proceeds to dart to his out backpack, grabbing a bucket and promptly running off into the darkness. 

“Oh by the way!”- he pokes back in, face so bright it rivals Techno’s light spell- “You can un-enchant yourselves pretty easily, if you want.” With that, he’s gone again, but a green memory. Techno scoffs. 

“I so don’t wanna be dealin’ with this.” 

“I can deal with it for you, if you want,”- compassion’s key and all, goes unsaid. (although, Wil can hear disgusting, genuine sweetness in his voice replacing the words. it’s nice, being so expressive)

“...Please.” 

Wait, how’s he gonna deal? Sure, he could use words, but what words exactly? He’s not a nerd, he doesn’t know. 

Not one to back out of a situation he backed himself into, Wilbur tries to reach for an answer or whatever desperation that grants him powerups; pictures himself and Techno, free to move. They  _ need  _ to be free to move, or they’ll die of hunger. Right Now. Wil tries to struggle against the comforting hold of Phil’s magic. 

Sure enough, it breaks under his effort with no pain and minimal resistance, the sweet bastard. “Okay, now, try to move?”- he’d intended it as more of an order, but either because of Techno’s sweet, forsaken expression or the odd feeling of loneliness being free of Phil’s spell’s created, it doesn’t come out remotely as one. 

Either way, Techno succeeds, surprised so adorably at being able to just shake it off: “I never thought I’d be this greatful for a Gary Sue kinda character in my  _ life _ .” Wil once again can’t help but snort, for entirely different reasons now: “How do you know what a gary sue is?” 

“I read books.” 

“...Cool,”- but really, how? Does this world also have fanfiction?? 

Lost in thought, next thing Wil knows he’s being ordered into chopping mushrooms by just moments ago a helpless man, which he’d say is a new low. At least their dinner is bound to be great. 

**. . . . . . . .**

“So, flying huh?”- Phil’s the one to pop the bubble of silence dawning on them, shifting and turning away all shy like under their curious eyes. They exchange a glance. 

“Yeah, why?”- not sure what the question is about, Wil cocks his head. He must be looking so fucking adorable right now, he puts on a bit of a pout on to accenuate it. The effort’s a bit of a waste, Phil too busy being coy to pay attention, but he at least gets another glance from Techno and it’s almost kind. Almost approval. God Wilbur just wants a hug right now. 

“Cause uh,”- as Phil looks to him, timid, giving him the idea to open his arms, an opportunity Phil almost literally jumps at- “I kinda wanna be able to do it at will,”- settling in Wil’s lap, he lets himself be hugged close- “And I sorta have an idea for how to do it, but…” 

“But what?”- careful, Wil pulls at the top of Phil’s hair, just because he can. 

“But it might require me getting cut up a bit, so not an option for Techno I think, and uh, just yeah. Knives.” 

For the umptenth time that evening, Wil can’t help a bit of a giggle: “That’s it? You know I can do it for you easily, right?”- before he can even finish, Techno is up from where he was sitting: “Ne-ather no, I’m not lettin’ you anywhere near a human with a knife. Phil uuh, what do you need again?”- Techno is pure drawl, adorable in his extra theatrical attempt to reassure. 

“To etch a few words into my skin and seal them over, theoretically,”- and just like that, Phil’s more calm than cautious again, maybe even in an attempt to reassure Techno who’s gone a bit overboard with reassurance, as he does- “We gotta check if it’ll work though. Something small on my hand, maybe?” 

“Yeah, sure. How about ‘fire’, cause I’m sick of bein’ used as a match every day,”- already on the hunt for a proper dagger, Techno’s all business- “What’d ya say?” 

His seriousness is in nice contrast to Phil’s bright, adorable excitement, or to everything about their group really: “Oh, fuck yes,”- he scatters off Wilbur’s lap- “I’m still gonna come up with some chore for you though, it’s good practice.” 

“One of these days, I’ll chore your brain out of your skull, Philza.” 

“Yeah yeah, until then though you do what I tell you as your teacher-”- Phil’s confidence blooms off into an anxious smile- “-if that’s okay?” 

“...Yes, yes it is. You’re way too soft to order me into anything bad anyways.” 

With that scathing verdict, Techno grabs Phil’s offered hand, ready to start at a moment’s notice. They sit all cute like that for a bit. 

“Oh, right-”- perking, Phil flaps his free hand around- “-right, wait a sec-”- he closes his eyes, focusing. The hand Techno’s still cradling lights up with the Galactic word for fire, he himself getting a soft glow for a second: “There, it shouldn’t hurt now. Go ahead,”- his smile is too pure, too good for this world, Wil settles. 

It also promises not a single good thing: “Yeah, you two have your fun, III’m just gonna get brewin’ some Fire Res,”- him cutting off his g doesn’t sound nearly as smooth as Techno, which is just rude. Neither is getting paid no mind other than an inattentive nod from Phil, Techno too busy carving a line just below the aforementioned’s knuckles to even react. Wil gets no fucking recognition in this fucking house. 

**. . . . . . . .**

“I’m done,”- and Techno is, the tip of the dagger he’s holding dripping blood and Phil’s hand a careful, shining cut up masterpiece. So is Wilbur, done with the prep steps at least; waiting for it to brew is another matter entirely. 

“Oh, great! Now, help me scar it over. I think it’s important, seeing how your hand in this was pretty big,”- almost apologetic, Phil closes his eyes. Is he gonna try this wordless shit again? Didn’t seem to work too well with the anti-pain thing, he’d vinced plenty durning Techno’s work. 

“Pust ogon’ poyavlyaetsa, kogda hochu,”- apparently not, him and Techno a creepy, endearing chorus that makes Wilbur feel as unstable as the fabric of reality around them. With it, Phil’s hand lights up brighter, before settling into an enchanted glow running through his veins. It’s beautiful. 

“Okay okay, now lemme check-”- Phil practically yanks his hand out of Techno’s hold, turning it over and creating a bright flicker of fire above his palm- “-ohmygal it’s working.” 

Having subsided for a bit, just watching the flame, Phil explodes into a flurry of hands, moving his whole body to some frantic inner rhythm so feverishly delighted Wil can’t help but join, shaking his head from side to side so fast it feels like it might rip off his body. The flame’s snuffed out, now, Techno who was just watching up and next to the simmering coals of their campfire: “I wonder if your hand’s fireproof now. Otherwise, it’d be uhh, kinda pointless,”- all drawl-y again, he really is a joy, poking the embers with his nail-hoof-claw thingies in a dull rhythm. 

“Why, it wouldn’t-”- Phil sounds confused- “-look what I can do now,”- to demonstrate, he creates a small ball of flame at the point of a construction Wil struggles to call anything but a finger slingshot, crawling over and sending it into the campfire like a very short range projectile. It looks awesome, even if tiny. 

“Yeea, but still.” 

All’s quiet for a bit. “Touch the flame,”- Wil chants. 

“Touch the flame.” 

“Touch the flame,”- this time, Techno joins in- “Touch the flame-”-”-Fine, fine! I’ll touch the flame. There’s no flame right now though. Will just coal satisfy you?” 

“...Yeah, it’s fine.” 

“Okay-”- Phil braces, flexes his fingers- “-we still have recovery pots, right? Just checking.” 

“You can always just recover yourself, though,”- it’s Wil’s turn to be confused. Now for Techno’s turn, although he so rarely is; the more of a treat, Wilbur guesses. 

“Yeah, I’m just expressing concern,”- evidently not linked at all to his caution, as he reaches out and grabs a fistfull of coal with his enchanted hand. According to his raised, gratified eyebrows, it does nothing. 

Still holding the coal, Phil turns to Techno: “Anyway, do you feel weird at all? I’m all sorta tingly now, especially the arm.” 

“Same, I guess. Not much though.” 

“Oh, that’s very interesting. Cause I kinda feel like my arm isn’t quite, or doesn’t quite end with my skin? Kinda like it disperses through air, you know? Just a little though,”- he flexes his fingers, creating a flame again and shaking it off, watching the motion as though vexed. Curling it into a fist next, he watches the run of magic through his veins, the perleasent shine of the tattoo. Then, closes his other hand around the fist. “Hoouh. This is so weird.” 

“Yeah, you’ve literally got the Galaxy distilled in your hand. I honestly can’t even imagine what it feels like,”- the words come out a bit stilted, Wil’s whole mind going into overdrive trying its best, if late, to assort what’s just happened. 

“What do you mean you can’t imagine- oh, right. You don’t remember. At least I don’t think you do, cause I sure don’t already. Can’t imagine how I was just a second ago, imagine that,”- Phil lets out an embarrassed laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his Flame hand, not bothered enough to explain what he means at all. Something’s clearly up with the hand, as it doesn’t reach, leaving his smile for all to see; just a look to Techno proves it more than appreciated. Really, for all the ‘not friends’ talk he spouts, he sure pays a lot of attention. He’s fun and ridiculous like that. 

Either way, Phil’s looking, enchanted, at his enchanted hand again, so very transfixed by it’s glow and the way it moves as he commands it, creates all sorts of flames, dancing from finger to finger, staying still, separating as he commands it, it’s amazing to watch. Impossible not to pay attention to, if Wilbur does say so himself. Mystifying. 

“So are you gonna do the whole body?”- Wil’s excited, okay?- “A glowing Philza would be just splendid, you know.” 

“Oh, right-”- Phil startles- “-Techno? Dude, you good?” 

Wil turns to Techno. Startled, too, the pig shakes off whatever spell he was under: “Uh, yes. Uuh, um, may I?”- with that, he opens his hand. Looking at it for a second, Phil nods, putting his enchanted one into it. They’re both just utterly charmed, now, Wilbur along with them; unable to resist himself, he reaches out, hovering his finger just above Phil’s tiny little open palm held in both of Techno’s big(ger. still small, compared to Wil’s. everything is), furry ones. Techno offers the palm up. Wil pokes it. 

Almost like an electric shock, the feeling he gets is nice despite it’s dulled intensity. Natural, in a way. Well, Wilbur does have distilled Galaxy in him according to Phil’s vague-ass words, must be that. Entranced, he gathers the entire palm into his hand, encasing it completely. 

It becomes warm. Very warm. Wil doesn’t let go, pulling it closer to himself and glaring down at Phil. 

All the imposing attitude gets him is an unimpressed look along with what is surely gonna come out as a burn on his palm. At first clenching the flaming hand harder on reflex, Wil absolutely yeets it away from himself: “Oh my god, Phil, what the fuck!” 

“Fuck you is what!”- the bastard’s laughing- “Lechi e-go,”- still a laugh to his words, he subsides. So does the pain in Wilbur’s hand, Techno’s smile growing proportionately: “I uuh, hate to interrupt your fun, but are we enchantin’ Phil completely today or nah?” 

“Yes, yes we are, Techno,”- all calmed down now, Phil’s still smiling all bastard like, so self-satisfied Wil can’t believe he ever thought the man was a saint. 

“Where?”- Techno’s fast to enter business mode again, reaching for the dagger he’d set on a handkerchief at some indescribable point Wil’s managed to miss and wiping it clean. 

“My back, I think? That’ll probably be the least awkward thing to do, space wise.” 

“‘Kay.” 

The second Phil gets a confirmation, he shrugs off the top of his robe. Gets a downtrodden look: “Oh shit, I don’t wanna lay on grass. Wil?” 

“Wait, you wanna lay on me? Isn’t that gonna be even less comfortable? I mean I’m big, but I’m not very soft, sorry,”- really, he’s flattered by the offer, but he just isn’t plush enough to be a satisfying bed. Even if he’s got heating built in. 

“No, Wil, I don’t wanna lay on you, I want you to prepare the sleeping mat for us,”- oooooooh right, shit, at least Phil is still fond- “Can you do that?” 

“Yeah, yeah, right, sorry,”- basking in Phil’s kindness, Wil delights in being useful to them, going to grab his matt off his backpack and spreading it out on the ground all even like. When Phil settles, almost regal in his casualness, he swaps to basking in his own pride at a job well done, and when Techno settles too, on top of him, delights in how his mat is more than big enough to fit both of them. Techno’s careful not to put any of his weight on Phil, of course, not wanting to hurt him; watching them, Phil tensing as Techno moves in to the glowing letters, he remembers something: “Oh by the way, Phil, don’t you wanna renew the non-hurty spell? Maybe outloud?” 

“Oh, right. Nozh- ne bolno. Okay, I’m ready now.”- Phil’s practically vibrating, now. Techno sighs. “Did your hand hurt?” 

“...A little.” 

“Bruh.” 

“Sorry.” 

Enrapturing clash over, they both breathe, the letters on Phil’s back alight and bright again, Techno getting a certain hypnotised look back in his whole posture. How he seems comfortable with it is a bit of a happy mystery, to Wil. A very, very important not to uncover, amazing, kind mystery. Wil relaxes, letting the hypnotism engulf him, too. 

**. . . . . . . .**

“Aaand done,”- Techno recedes a bit, examining his handy work. Then, still watching the letters, licks the dagger clean and wipes it off against his shorts, lifting himself off Phil inseparable from watching the neat rows of words, and, not drawing his eyes away from the glowing scripts, settles to sit. 

“Mhm, perfect. Now, help seal it over?”- even facing away from Wil, Phil’s closed eyes are audible. How, Wilbur’s not sure. Doesn’t stop the mental image from entering his mind, though, the beautiful calm of which he can’t help but appreciate. 

With Phil’s order-offer, their creepy chorus is back at it again, too many words at once for Wil to catch and too overwhelming of a disturbance to consider; it feels nice, though, like a breeze whizzing past you as you fly higher and higher on a swing, but long. Like the still pinks and oranges of a summer evening, also. A confusing mix, given not only the odd non-clash of stillness and motion but also that Phil’s colour is green, not pink. Neither is Techno’s colour pink, even though he himself is- his is red, and Wilbur’s is yellow, and together, they are a traffic light! How delightful. 

Well to be fair Techno’s colour is more black- Phil’s back lights up brighter than the long forgotten, dimming light spell Techno’s cast for their round of Theft. For the second time that day, Wil’s eyes die the death of heroes. 

“Wow, you’re like a flash grenade,”- the words leave his mouth before he gains his vision back, and he’s not sure how he settled on something so mild and curious. ‘Fuck’, would’ve surely fit better. 

“The fuck’s a light grenade?”- Phil, on the other hand, doesn’t hold back the swear words, though his tone  _ is _ inappropriate with just how damn cheerful he is. Finally able to see again, Wil turns to him. The bastard’s floating, of course. Damn him. 

“A thingie you throw meant to blind your enemies. What have you got against us, Philza?” 

“Absolutely nothing, believe it or not. Anyway, Techno, you alive there buddy?” 

Laying on his back with a hand over his eyes, Techno doesn’t hesitate: “No, I’m dead. Deceased. Gone. Murdered in cold blood by the ones I trust most. Betrayed. Ruined.” 

“Hey, don’t pull me into this!”- really, what the fuck was that about- “Phil’s the one that’s killed you, not me.” 

“True, true. Philza? Die.”- he’s easy to agree, for once, pointing in the direction he presumes Phil to be with a finger slingshot. Not vexed, Phil floats over: “No. Also, you kinda did this to yourself, if you think about it, no?”- he’s like a playful fox spirit, utter bastardry masquerading as casualness underlining his every word. 

“Oh, fu- I mean, die more or whatever, I totally wasn’t gonna use a swear word right there.” 

“Mhm, sure. Anyway, wanna play theft, anyone?”- having been laying on air above Techno, Phil floats off, turning to look at the both of them. Leisure as ever, Techno sits up, demonstrating a notable lack of the zoomies he normally gets when it comes to anything competitive: “Su-ore, but first, hey Wilbur, what’s up with that fire res? What happened to the fire res, Wilbur? I could feel you staring-”- Wil’s not listening. Looking to the brewer, it appears all the water has evaporated, leaving some disgusting mush at the bottom- fuck. 

Needless to say, he doesn’t join Phil’s and Techno’s first round. 

He does after that, though, and gets utterly sidelined for a whole game, his two friends too busy trying to win their rematch to pay him any mind. That’s sort of what allows him to win, against Phil at least. 

“Fuck this, at least I can fly now,”- to underline his words, Phil floats up from where he lay on his back, still defeated even in the air. 

“So can I, bitch, you’re just a sore loser.” 

“I can’t. I’ve also taken your last diamond, Wil. You lose!” 

“Oh shut it, I still have netherite-” 

They play until the sky starts to lighten. Really, all of them love competition to a completely unhealthy degree, now that Wilbur thinks about it. 

Or rather just, can’t let go of things. That too. 

Waking up with the midday sun in his eyes is an utter nightmare either way, and by god is he complaining. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy thanks for reading i guess! hope you enjoyed! now just. lemme ramble a bit. and you're free to go 
> 
> \- so first of all, before i forget, i love love love the way techno sends off the person causing him distress to go get water down a steep hill again, and it wasn't even intentional. like, i did it, and then realised i did it. my favourite way to do things. 
> 
> -also! this whole work was the result of a sequence of mental images. first was a cliff on a sunny day, forest creeping up one side and a lake the other, a very confused Wilbur hanging a short distance away from it somewhere between the clifftop and the lake.  
> second was Wilbur, floating about and playing his guitar, born out of the idea I had that music can be yet another way to express the galaxy or whatever, and third was just generic hanging around the campfire which then somehow turned into into Techno carving words into Phil's back, and i don't know how and that's it! 
> 
> -when i said my previous work was practically my magnum opus. i lied. i'll never show you my magnum opus for i'd get sick of updating it cause it is fated to stay a work in progress at the very least until i'm old and crusty (about 20 or something, at the rate i'm going). that's irrelevant to this work i just thought i'd let you know 
> 
> -did you know, a high procentage of my readers aren't actually kudo-ing? - okay okay i'm not gonna do the spiel i;m sorry-  
> but did you know it's free? you can't un-kudo tho. that's a mistake. but you can kudo even if you don't have an acc, from what i know!  
> can you tell i'm desperate for attention yet or 
> 
> Anyways thank you so much for reading!! aaaah i hope this was as fun a ride as writing it <333 i mean, the end was a bit more on the 'just get it over with' side but hey, the rest i adored


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